The Apple’s Tale

 


For in this moment, I am inside my commitment,

I believed all in tilling began.

With a smile on my face and my lips kissing grace,

Slapping the feeling turning the key,

Shaking the tree as my apples come down,

Ready and ripe ideal produce for steam. 

Oh Adam I wonder your story present, 

Fore know ledge,

I guess we should not eat what we could sale,

Yet the word knot prepared the story for tell.

All being said gratefully be,

Enjoy your sails as the winds curtails,

Forming into a watering view 

Of God loving you. 

In this moment, I compel commitment's light,

Tilling the soil, harvesting my dreams in sight.

A smile presses my lips kissed revealing taste,

Answering's keen, releasing chaste.

Shaking the tree, ripe apples fall,

Ideal fruits for steam—answering the call.

Oh Adam, I ponder your tale so well,

A knot of knowledge, a story to tell.

Should we eat what we could sell?

Or let the word shape the story to spell?

Gratefully I bow to the sails that rise,

Guided by winds that paint the skies.

Watering views of my love the vine,

God’s hands shaped this path of mine.

Each ripple, a note, each please, I do,

Singing a world of God loving you.

Art Baby Blue.


















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